


Coup

by Jeegoo



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bondage, Canonical Character Death, Multi, Non-Consensual, Oral, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2017-12-25 06:37:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeegoo/pseuds/Jeegoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, set before the war. During an investigation into the communications of the insurgent gladiator Megatron, Sentinel Prime finds himself enamored by an archivist, Orion Pax. An offer is made, and Cybertron’s future is changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Huge thanks to the following angels who have been nothing but supportive and perfect babies ♥; [Andy](http://www.fanfiction.net/u/3385243/Andromeda-Prime), [Lexi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Succubii), [Eisee](http://archiveofourown.org/users/eiseedoesit) and [Kem!](http://archiveofourown.org/users/HurricaneFoundry)
> 
> Units of time are as follows:
> 
> _Astrosecond:_ ~0.5 seconds
> 
> _Klik:_ ~1.2 minutes
> 
> _Breem:_ ~8.3 minutes
> 
> _Groon:_ ~1 hour
> 
> _Joor:_ ~6 hours
> 
> _Mega-cycle:_ ~93 hours
> 
> _Quartex:_ ~30 days
> 
> _Decivorn:_ ~8.3 years
> 
> _Vorn:_ ~83 years  
> 

\--

Stepping into Sentinel Prime’s chamber hadn’t felt this surreal in decivorns. Back then he’d been struggling to accept that his sudden rise in rank was _really happening_ and that he wasn’t critically glitching. A minor data-handler being raised up to a position normally filled by the highest-ranked of nobles? It was an event so rare most of the population would have dismissed it as fantasy. 

This time however... if he wasn’t glitching, well...

Sentinel’s private berthchamber was only dimly illuminated, the lights of Iacon filtering in through the room’s windows. It was more than sufficient, however, for him to see his master and friend sprawled across the floor. His internals were spread around him like a constellation while a tall, leaden figure crouched over him, one hand buried to the wrist in Sentinel’s torso.

Orion wasn’t cognizant of making a noise, but he must have because the mech looked up and fixed him in place with piercing red optics. The hand inside Sentinel’s chest slid free with a wet, grinding noise as the mech rose to their full height; they loomed over Orion with ease, even halfway across the room. 

“Who are you?”

That voice... Orion’s optics reset twice, flickering rapidly as he tried to control the sudden flood of data that swamped his processor. _Megatron._ Standing in Sentinel’s private quarters. In the heart of the Council Palace in Iacon. Half a planet away from Kaon. _Standing over Sentinel Prime’s deactivated frame._

“You killed him...” Even to his own audials, he sounded lost. 

“ _Who are you?_ ”

The sheer level of _threat_ in the question was enough to startle Orion out of his stupor. Megatron had lost patience and was advancing on him, fists clenched and stained with Sentinel’s energon. 

Beneath his chassis, Orion’s spark dimmed. The only outward sign of his fear was the continued flickering of his optics, wide and bright in anticipation of his own death. 

_You did this. You made this happen._

Guilt kept him unresisting as Megatron pinned him against the wall with enough force to dent his armor. One massive hand wrapped around his throat, tilting his helm backwards so that Orion had no choice but to meet Megatron’s glare. 

“Are you _mute?_ Answer me!”

Wrapping one hand around part of Megatron’s broad wrist, Orion stared down the barrel of the fusion cannon pressed against his face. He could feel the heat radiating from it, more than enough to suggest it had been fired recently, and more than once. 

He’d heard _nothing_. The comms had been silent for over a groon! 

“My name is Orion Pax,” his voice was unexpectedly even, despite the thick note of desperation in it. “I am…” even though Sentinel’s corpse was hidden behind Megatron’s frame, his voice still faltered. The gruesome image had engraved itself on his processor, and the fresh surge of guilt it provoked made him slump, pressing his brow hard against the mouth of the cannon. “I _was_ Sentinel Prime’s Consort.” Orion finished. 

He’d expected to be offlined for his admission, but the quiet purr of interest both startled him as it turned the energon pumping through him icy. “A Prime’s Consort? You are a welcome surprise indeed.” 

Orion struggled then, fighting against the hard press of Megatron’s frame. “You believe I’ll serve _you_ after you _murdered_ Sentinel?”

He was dragged away from the wall, Megatron pulling him across the room without effort. “Of course you will. Soundwave; I require a set of cuffs.”

Orion craned his helm back as far as his actuators allowed, just in time to see a section of the shadowed doorway detach itself from the rest of the mass and drift towards them. He could vaguely make out the shape of the mecha by the lines of glowing violet inscribed across their frame, along with the dim red rings around the cuffs in their hands.

Panic flooded his systems; red light indicated military-grade equipment, and a stasis field that would render him far more helpless than the civilian-grade equivalent would. Orion’s fingers clawed at the hand Megatron had wrapped around his neck, his slim but blunt digits trying and failing to loosen the larger mech’s hold. 

Megatron tossed him onto the berth effortlessly, giving Orion no time to reorient himself before he straddled the Consort’s frame, his hands holding Orion’s arms above his head so that Soundwave could cinch the cuffs around his wrists. 

The current cascaded through his systems in an icy rush, throttling his systems back with such severity that it was all Orion could do to remain online. His frame slumped under Megatron’s, his optics dimming as the panicked growl from his motor dulled to a low hum. 

Awareness was fleeting, and Orion was barely cognizant of Megatron lifting him up, the hand still sticky with Sentinel’s innermost energon stroking a line down his slack face. 

\--

Orion hadn’t managed to move even an inch by the time Megatron and his shadow returned, the stasis-cuffs proving far too powerful for his small, civilian frame. Even his processor had suffered- Orion’s HUD had continued to count the passing kliks in Megatron’s absence, but the symbols but had been undecipherable with the limited amount of processing power remaining to him. 

Megatron inspected the room first, pleased that the drones had scrubbed it clean in the interim; even the scuffs had been buffed away until the floor glowed dimly. Orion could only follow with dim optics as the mech made a lap around the room, taking in the details he’d ignored before. 

“You will be happy to hear that the High Council voted in Cybertron’s new Prime. A unanimous decision that required only a _little_ encouragement.” Megatron stared out the window as he spoke, apparently pleased by the view. “You now serve _Megatronus Prime,_ Consort,” he turned and met Orion’s dull blue optics with his own exultant stare; “are you not overjoyed to bear witness to such an historic moment?” 

Orion stared at him, his sedated processor unable to comprehend the meaning in Megatron’s statement. The lack of reaction appeared to displease the newly-installed tyrant, and he stalked over to the berth to lower the potency of the stasis-cuffs. When the supine mech startled under Megatron’s hands and flinched away from him was the moment Megatron decided the strength was _just right_ for what lay ahead. 

There was, after all, no fun in ‘facing mecha that were unable to respond.

“I believe it is past time for me to enjoy the privilege due my position,” Megatron murmured, his hands pressed Orion harder against the berth. His new consort made a desperate noise, cuffed hands rose to push against Megatron’s breastplate. It was a pleasant pressure, not nearly strong enough to actually threaten. 

“I am not your _possession_!” 

“Yet you _are_ the Prime’s Consort, and therefore _my_ Consort.”

Megatron silenced him by pushing two dangerously sharp talons into Orion’s mouth before he could respond, and the words choked off instantly. The digits Megatron used were on the same hand that had been buried in Sentinel Prime’s chest not-so-long ago.

They still tasted faintly of energon, coolant and the once pleasant, acid-sharp energy of Sentinel’s spark, which was so _very_ familiar and something he now found distressing in the extreme. The moment Orion reached up to remove Megatron’s digits, however, the pointed tips pressed _hard_ against his glossa in clear threat. 

Orion looked up, meeting Megatron’s derisive stare. “Your cooperation is neither necessary, nor something I overly desire, Consort. Keep in mind, the only mecha here who will benefit from submission is _you._ ”

The pressure on his glossa lifted as Megatron slid his digits deeper. The talons ghosted across the delicate walls of his intake and Orion was forced to suppress a shudder; it wouldn’t take very much effort at _all_ for Megatron to shred some very vital and _sensitive_ components. 

Orion held little doubt that he could end up the same way as Sentinel; a fresh surge of guilt reminded him that he deserved deactivation for his complicity in this... this _violent sedition_. Good intentions counted for nothing when _this_ was the product of his efforts.

These were not the circumstances he’d been hoping for when he had thrown his support behind Megatron. But this _was_ what he had earned. 

Offlining his optics made it only fractionally easier for Orion to very slowly seal his lips around the base of Megatron’s fingers, sliding his glossa across the length of one talon in addition to a careful application of suction. 

Megatron’s purr vibrated through his chassis, provoking a wave of shame and guilt so painful it made his spark contract. 

_Reap the rewards of your good intentions._

The hands Orion still had jammed up against Megatron’s armored chest relaxed marginally, his fingers questing along the seams the way his Consort programming compelled. Megatron’s frame was completely unfamiliar to him, likely having been heavily modified during his time as a gladiator. 

“Wise decision,” Megatron murmured, slipping his digits free from Orion’s mouth so that he could wrap both hands around his new toy’s hips. The pointed tips of his claws idly dragged lines in the paint over his pelvic armor, and Orion nervously triggered his valve’s lubrication subroutine. He could see that Megatron’s attention wasn’t on him upon activating his optics, but Orion was too aware of the gladiator’s impatience to want to risk internal damage due to insufficient preparation. 

“You should join us, Soundwave,” Megatron extended an arm toward the figure lurking in shadow; “this is as much your victory as it is mine _._ ” 

There was no hesitation; as if he’d been given an order, Soundwave stepped out of the gloom and clasped Megatron’s proffered wrist. It was not a gesture Orion was familiar with, but it proclaimed solidarity better than any oath could. Megatron’s sharp grin took on a softer edge as his talons caressed Soundwave’s wrist in return, before he spoiled the moment by tugging the mech towards the berth. 

Orion startled as Megatron swept him upright with his other arm, effortlessly turning him so that Orion’s back was pinned up against the chassis he’d caressed only a klik ago. 

Soundwave settled himself comfortably at the head of the berth, apparently happy to take his time and watch as Megatron’s digits pried at Orion’s interface cover. It retracted quickly enough, releasing a splattering of lubricant as the first dark rumble emanated deep from within Megatron’s frame. 

“Not so reluctant after all, _Consort_.” 

Orion considered protesting, but Megatron chose that moment to slide a claw into him to test the flex and stretch of his valve. His anxious venting stalled, both hands gripping the arm around his waist as he tried not to struggle. 

Megatron made a low purring noise into the crook of his neck as he pressed deeper, adding a second finger. “You had better be as good as your reputation claims, Consort. You shall find that Soundwave is difficult to please, and if you cannot satisfy him...” The claws slid out of his valve, and Megatron lifted them to Orion’s mouth in a clear suggestion. 

The taste of his own lubricant was no stranger to Orion, and it was easy enough to clean the gladiator’s talons. The sensation of Soundwave’s long, spindly digits brushing against his cheek, however, was something new. 

Looking up, his optics locked onto the blank, eerie visor that masked the other mech’s face. Delicate fingertips traced the perimeter of his optics before drifting down to the tense curve of Orion’s mouth. 

Soundwave’s hands were unusually fragile for a fighting mecha, extra dexterous and ideal for more delicate work, but nothing like the weapons Megatron’s hands were wrought as. Once Megatron had withdrawn his talons, Orion turned his attention on those slender digits, sucking them deep into his mouth so that his glossa could reach the joints closer to Soundwave’s wrist.

Megatron, in the meantime, had deemed Orion’s valve sufficiently stretched and slicked and sheathed himself with barely a moment’s warning. It took all of Orion’s self control not to bite down on Soundwave’s fingers in reflex, restraining himself to a low moan. 

It took focus to endure Megatron’s rough, careless thrusting while he tried to please Soundwave with his mouth. Orion’s glossa searched out the tiny, numerous sensors and delicate nanotube actuators to stimulate while trying to ignore the occasional flavour of stale, burnt energon when he delved into certain joints. 

Orion certainly wasn’t going to think on _how_ it got there. 

A particularly hard thrust almost knocked Orion headfirst into Soundwave’s lap, and the visored mech stabilized him with a hand on his shoulder, the hand still in Orion’s mouth petting his glossa soothingly. 

After a klik or so of concentrated effort, Orion realised with alarm that Soundwave had still not released his spike. Megatron’s incomplete threat still hovered over his helm and he tried to move closer to Soundwave’s interface panel, hoping tactile stimulation there would encourage the mech to participate further. 

Soundwave, however, felt differently. He wriggled the digits in Orion’s mouth suggestively, tilting the Consort’s helm up and stroking the roof of his mouth with a light, teasing touch. His interface panel remained firmly locked in place, and not even Orion’s skilled hands would change that. 

A particularly hard thrust from Megatron, angled in an awkward direction made Orion jerk in surprise, his dentes snapping firmly at the base of Soundwave’s fingers. 

The mech shuddered, but made no noise to signal any discomfort or pain… perhaps he had enjoyed it? It was not unusual for mecha to find pleasure in pain to a certain degree; he supposed it made enduring the violence in the gladiatorial pits easier. 

A rush of wet heat flooded into his valve as Megatron overloaded with a snarl of satisfaction, his claws digging another set of channels into Orion’s hips. His dentes once again clenched down on Soundwave’s fingers as he choked back a cry, denting the armor and making the mech rev in approval. 

And then Orion remembered Megatron’s threat. Panic flared in him, supernova hot. He pressed his face closer to Soundwave’s interface, nuzzling the hot panel as he desperately prayed that the mech wasn’t _trying_ to get him punished.

Too late; once again, that massive hand wrapped around his neck and drew him back upright, pressed tight against Megatron’s chassis. Soundwave’s fingers slipped free from Orion’s mouth easily, sticky lines of oral lubricant stringing from his lips before they broke under their own weight. 

“Is this truly your best, Consort?” Megatron purred dangerously as he saw Soundwave’s closed panel, and Orion’s vocalizer seized in fear. 

Soundwave lifted one hand to Megatron, stroking his forearm before the mech arched his spinal strut, lifting his hips fractionally as his panel finally slid away to reveal his heavily aroused spike. The biolights on it seared in a bright blue-violet, illuminating the driblets of lubricant along the sides. 

It was _beautiful._

Megatron vented hard, blasting hot air across Orion’s frame as his powerful flight engine gave a low growl of appreciation. “How will you have him, Soundwave?” 

Slick fingers stroked over Orion’s mouth, and Megatron grinned; “You wanted something _special,_ brother?” He pushed Orion down with a short, snapped command to _suck_ before shifting to settle himself beside Soundwave. 

Grateful that he wasn’t being punished, Orion utilized his programming to the fullest, using his glossa to map Soundwave’s spike and noting the areas that got the most response from the mech. It was of unusual design, he could tell from the brief glance he’d managed, but there was nothing about it to suggest that it had been modified at any time.

With his face pressed into Soundwave’s pelvis and focused on the task at hand, Orion could only just make out the low murmur of Megatron’s voice. He startled as Soundwave’s hips suddenly jerked up hard, thrusting his spike deep into Orion’s intake; he tried to retreat a little, but a large hand cupped the back of his helm and pushed him down again, driving the spike into his mouth as far as it would reach. 

Unable to move, Orion did as much as he could with just his glossa; Soundwave seemed _very_ aroused at this point, contrary to his restraint from earlier. His hips kept shifting, rocking back and forth erratically as his spike twitched and pulsed. Overload followed rapidly, and without specific orders Orion swallowed the transfluid and hoped he’d made the correct decision.

The hand on Orion’s helm moved away, and he glanced up as far as he could without actually rising, the spike sliding out of his mouth as it depressurized. Megatron had tilted Soundwave’s visor towards his own face, still murmuring as the smaller mech’s hands trembled and clung to him. There was a dangerous smirk gracing Megatron’s face, and the reason for it became clear as the gladiator moved away, the hand that had been hidden behind Soundwave’s frame rising up, glistening with lubricants. 

Megatron licked them clean, making sure Soundwave watched every moment, and Orion felt compelled to turn away from the painfully affectionate moment. 

\--

Curled up against the wall, Orion had offlined his optics in misery and tucked his face between his still-cuffed arms. It was hopeless to think he’d reached the worst moment of his life at this very moment, used like shareware by the mech he’d believed to be the key to fixing Cybertronian society and then dismissed with as much consideration. 

All his own doing.

He was exhausted and filthy, consumed with guilt and despair and self-loathing. Offlining would be too good a fate for him. How many mecha had he killed in his naivety? 

Even if it had just been Sentinel… too many. 

Orion’s internal chrono counted away the passing astroseconds, going unnoticed as he sank deeper into misery. 

“Really? _Recharging,_ Pax?” 

That voice… Orion onlined his optics and jerked up with a strangled gasp, staring at Starscream with incredulity and reignited hope. “You’re alive!”

The Seeker scoffed, preening a little before he pinned Orion down with a familiar smirk. “Of course I am,” he hesitated in the doorway, scanning the room before swaggering over to the berth. “I must admit, I _was_ surprised to hear you’d survived.”

“You have to get out of here, Sentinel was murdered! They’ve gone to celebrate but the longer you stay here the more you risk being captured!”

“I know Sentinel is dead; and _good riddance_ to the doddering old fool. He’d been in power for far too long, and while it _is_ a shame Megatron is the new Prime,” Starscream settled himself primly on the edge of the berth, “I’m sure with my support he will be… satisfactory.” 

His crimson optics pinned Orion against the wall, utterly confident. 

“You… Starscream? I-”

Sneering contempt passed over the Seeker’s face, “Of course, you don’t _understand_ ; did you _really_ think the other Decepticons could have breached Iacon’s defenses, as well as the High Council’s security?” He scoffed again, “They wouldn’t have gotten _anywhere_ without my help.”

“You _betrayed_ Sentinel?” Orion backed away from the Seeker, horror mingling with anger the more he stared, “Megatron _slaughtered_ him, he _punched through_ his sparkchamber like it was so much slag,” Starscream reached out and grabbed his ankle as he tried to skitter away, and he gave a cry of disgust, kicking out to dislodge the grip, “you were supposed to _protect_ him, Starscream! _He trusted you!”_

“Sentinel was a senile old fool,” Starscream spat, dragging Orion back towards him, “and you’re only going to make things worse for yourself if you keep fighting!” 

Newfound resolution filled Orion’s spark along with the realization that he was not _solely_ to blame for the Decepticons’ successful uprising. He kicked out at Starscream with his free leg, only for the Seeker to grab it too, pushing them apart as he forced himself between the Consort’s thighs. “Get away from me, _traitor_!” 

“You’re no longer for exclusive use of the _Prime_ now, Pax,” using his knees to keep Orion’s legs pinned, Starscream reached up and grabbed his throat, “by the orders of our new _Lord Prime_ you are to entertain the Decepticons who have pleased his Lordship with their service.” 

“Go rust in the Pit with the rest of the slag, you clinker!”

“Tch, such unseemly language from a glorified _courtesan,_ ” Starscream backhanded Orion roughly before lifting him just enough to slam his helm back down against the berth, jarring his processor unpleasantly. “You will behave for me, _Pax,_ because if you don’t-” he lowered one long claw, tapping it significantly against the glass of Orion’s optic; “-I can make your stay here _uniquely_ unpleasant. Or perhaps you would enjoy that?”

It took Orion a klik to regather his senses, and he took the opportunity to evaluate his position; low on fuel, stasis-cuffed and with a blossoming processor-ache to look forward to. Starscream, as trained warrior could defeat him without difficulty even _without_ his current handicaps.

Orion’s earlier resignation had been forgotten, replaced with a simmering desire for justice; against Megatron, for Sentinel’s murder and usurpation of the Primacy; against Starscream, for his betrayal; against _every_ Decepticon for their treachery. 

And for that, he needed his processor and frame intact.

It made his spark hurt to do so, but he slumped underneath Starscream, feigning surrender. He was rewarded with a triumphant sneer for his effort, and Orion forced his optics offline, trembling as he suppressed the desire to punch Starscream right in his smug mouth. 

He could do this. He _had_ to. 

\--


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream has his turn with the Prime's Consort, and Orion slowly loses the will to fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bless my darlings who put up with all my whining as I laboured to finish this chapter! ♥ Delle, Eisee, Andy, Kem and Lexi! ♥
> 
> **Characters (in this chapter):** Orion Pax, Starscream, Skywarp, Thundercracker.  
>  **Pairings (in this chapter):** Starscream/Orion Pax, Skywarp/Thundercracker, Skywarp/Orion Pax, Skywarp/Thundercracker/Orion Pax.  
>  **Warnings: Non-con, bondage, sticky, oral, humiliation**

\--

Seekers were notoriously high-energy mecha, and Orion’s hastily plotted escape relied upon this fact. Even though his tank was low, he was hoping to work Starscream hard enough that he fell into recharge before he slipped into the concealed servant-halls and made his way to the nearest exit. 

Orion prayed to Primus that the Decepticons had not yet taken control of those passages, built into the structure so that the serving staff and drones could continue working during the day while remaining invisible to the nobles. They were narrow and dimly lit, and any mecha with a large frame could easily block an entire passage.

A sharp pinch to his finial shocked him out of his musing, and Orion refocused his optics on Starscream’s glowering expression, “Pay attention, consort! You will address me as ‘master’ from this point on, and acknowledge all my commands verbally- am I understood?”

The corners of Orion’s mouth twitched down, and he fixed his optics on the cables of the Seeker’s throat rather than his hateful face. “Yes, _master_.”

A pleased growl emanated from Starscream’s powerful engine, and one claw was hooked under Orion’s chin to tilt his head back. “You will thank me for releasing you from Sentinel’s subjugation, then kiss me like you _mean_ it.”

Orion gaped at him, “ _What?_ No!” 

His engines shrieking in fury, Starscream reared back and lifted Orion from his supine position, pushing him backwards until he hit the wall and then slamming him against it hard enough to rattle his processor again. “ _What did you say to me, consort?”_

He had to bite his glossa to stop himself from retorting, but Orion’s silence didn’t satisfy Starscream either and he was backhanded for his trouble. “ _What order did I_ just _give you?”_

Trembling, Orion quickly responded with forced contrition before he could be struck again, “I...apologize,” lifting his hands, he stroked the smooth armor over Starscream’s chassis and tilted his head back. “Thank you for… for _liberating_ me from…” _Primus,_ he could feel the energon in his tanks souring with every filthy word, “Sentinel’s servitude… _master.”_

Offlining his optics, Orion leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Starscream’s, gently at first before he very cautiously slid his glossa over the line of the Seeker’s mouth. “May I express my gratitude?”

Starscream responded by wrapping his arms around Orion’s frame, one hand cupping his helm to keep their mouths pressed together while the other hugged his waist. The consort programming reacted automatically, deepening the kiss and pressing his frame harder against Starscream’s.

It hurt his spark to behave this way, but the thought of escape… he could find Jazz and hide in the Hall of Records, the archives of which extended deep into Cybertron’s underground. There was an endless selection of cul-de-sacs and sealed vaults that had not been seen nor used in decavorns. He could plan further there, with easy access to the archives and communication lines. 

Starscream dragged him out of his thoughts again by pressing him up hard against the wall once more, lifting Orion’s hips to grind their interface panels together. “Open up, Pax.”

Orion hesitated, caught off-guard. He was used to dedicating considerable time to foreplay before getting fragged, and had assumed that Starscream, as a noble, would expect the same treatment as Sentinel had. It also would have helped considerably in wearing the seeker out, and he couldn’t think up a way to suggest it to Starscream without sounding suspiciously eager.

“Are you _deaf?_ ” Another vicious pinch to his finial had him cringing and retracting his interface panel without further hesitation. 

“Forgive me, ma- _aaah!_ ” Orion tried to grab at Starscream’s spaulder as the mech pushed him lower, forcing his spine to curve awkwardly to fit in the space between the seeker’s lap and the wall. 

“Finger yourself,” he was ordered, Starscream grabbing his cuffed hands and pushing them between his parted thighs. “I can see Megatron left you a mess, little whore. Did he hurt you?” Starscream touched the gouges along his hips and smirked, “Of course he did, such a savage _boor._ Hardly acceptable material for a Prime, but there may be a small chance he can be moulded. _”_

Orion cautiously pressed two fingers into his slick valve; there was a dull ache from the rough frag, but no serious injuries. 

“Tender inside, are we?” Starscream purred, his finger sliding over the trail of transfluid oozing down Orion’s aft. “I doubt he’s had much experience, considering where he _came_ from.” Leaning down, Starscream forced Orion into another kiss, “How long did he last, a few astroseconds? You probably didn’t even get to overload.” 

“I didn’t want to!” Orion snapped, immediately regretting it. He’d expected to be hit again, but Starscream merely chuckled, stroking his face. 

“Hmm, yes, a little berth-bot like you needs a _gentler,_ more sophisticated touch, yes?” Drawing his hands away, Starscream replaced Orion’s fingers with his own. Despite the sharp tips, his claws drew a startled gasp from Orion as his deeper nodes were stimulated with a deft, experienced touch. The triumphant smirk on Starscream’s face hurt, and Orion offlined his optics in shame. “I’ll make you feel _so much_ better, pet.” 

A flare of panic lit up inside Orion as he realised that Starscream intended to force him to overload. Even _one_ would drop his fuel levels down a dangerous degree, and more than that… he might not even make it out of the palace. “Master,” his voice came out embarrassingly tremulous, and despite himself Orion’s hips would lift up each time Starscream’s digits delved in deeper; “ _please!_ ”

“Please _what,_ consort?” Starscream purred, leaning forward to loom over Orion. “You want something from me? _I_ am here to be rewarded, not you.”

A thread of hope quivered inside Orion’s spark, but he concealed it behind a subtle mask of revulsion. He couldn’t afford to waste this opportunity! Starscream had to remain convinced that the last thing Orion wanted was to satisfy him. “Please-” He reset his vocalizer and focused his optics back on Starscream’s chassis, avoiding his stare. “How may I serve you, master?” 

He made a show of considering his answer, but it was clear Starscream had entered the room knowing _exactly_ what he wanted. “Tell me,” he began, his voice a low growl that was magnetic in it’s heated intensity. “How much _better_ I am than anyone you’ve ever fragged.”

His spike slid into Orion’s valve in a single, smooth motion, deliberately timed with the moment he withdrew his fingers to elicit a full-body shiver from Orion. It wasn’t as large as Megatron’s had been, but the sinuous ridges along the spike’s length dragged over each of his nodes, inflaming sharp pleasure along with a dull burn.

“ _Primus,_ I can see why Sentinel coveted you so greedily! Megatron must be either a glitching ingrate or a _genius_ for offering your frame up as a reward.” Starscream rocked against him shallowly, shifting his hips so that his spike stroked along Orion’s valve at multiple angles. 

Gritting his dentes, Orion vacillated between doing the absolute minimum to please Starscream or putting in a little extra effort to get him off harder, ideally offlining him in the process. The Seeker’s close attention made it hard for him to focus, far too aware of the damage Starscream was capable of if Orion didn’t perform to his satisfaction.

“You…” Orion couldn’t hide the automatic grimace, “you feel wonderful, master.” 

A flash of movement, and Starscream was jerking him higher awkwardly, a taloned hand wrapped tight around one of the struts at his neck; “ _Poor,_ Pax. Try again, and make an effort to _convince_ me this time.” He ended his sentence with a hard _thrust,_ and Orion’s responsive exclamation was one of genuine pleasure, filling him with self-loathing.

  
“Hnn, much better _._ Maybe you should continue to worship me _without_ using words.” Starscream’s mouth pressed against Orion’s once more, and it was easier to close his optics and pretend he was with Sentinel than it was to continue resisting. 

His spark flickered under the flood of shame, threatening to extinguish.

\--

It felt to Orion as though eons had passed before Starscream had been sated, even though his chronometer told a different story.

He felt wrung out, worse than anything he’d experienced. Starscream’s stamina had been considerably greater than Orion had initially estimated, the energy-drain made worse through the fact that he’d been unable to lie back and let the Seeker do all the work. Starscream had _demanded_ reciprocation, and had no issues with resorting to violence if Orion did not meet his standards. 

He lay limp against the berth, feeling sore and sticky and sick to his spark. Starscream had not offlined during his overload; to the contrary, Orion had been the one to fall into stasis, and he had only regained lucidity when Starscream had backhanded him harshly and demanded his continued attention. 

“Master?”

“You’ve still got mecha to service, consort. While I completely _understand_ that you were under the impression that _I_ am the only competent Decepticon in Megatron’s service, his standards are low enough that there are more mecha who have earned time with you.”

“How unkind of you, Starscream!” A voice piped up from across the room, rich with mock-offense. “Disparaging the efforts of your loyal trinemates, when we saved _your_ aft from getting slagged several times. I remember quite clearly, as it only happened a few joor ago!”

Orion was dragged up into Starscream’s lap, his limp frame manipulated and posed until the Seeker was satisfied with his position. Skywarp and Thundercracker, in the meantime, remained dimly illuminated figures in the doorway. One pair of ravenous optics pinned him against Starscream’s chassis, while the other avoided looking at him directly.

Hope seized his spark once more, it’s presence both painful and welcome. Thundercracker was clearly less than enthused by the thought of being rewarded in such a manner, and if there was even the slightest possibility that he would be willing to assist Orions’ escape…

“Stop looking at him like that, Pax! TC is _mine_ and I don’t share him with little berth-pets like _you._ ”

Orion’s helm was tilted back until he was forced to look up at Starscream’s smug expression. “Forget whatever plans you have of escape, pet; you’ve got _vorns_ of fragging to look forward to under our benevolent care.”

He couldn’t hide the broken noise that escaped his vocalizer, the sound only encouraging Starscream’s smirk to widen maliciously. “Are you going to be polite to my lieutenants and greet them properly, or do you need further _encouragement_?”

It took deliberate effort for Orion to pull his chin out of Starscream’s grip, and it was just as difficult to keep his helm from drooping with exhaustion once it was unsupported. Even with the Seeker’s arms and frame to lean against, he swayed as if overcharged. “How… how may I serve?” 

Skywarp hooked his fingers beneath Orion’s jaw, holding his head steady so that he could slide his thumb into the consort’s mouth. “Psh, you didn’t hold back on the little grounder, ‘Scream. He looks as though he’s about to offline!”

Starscream’s chuckle could have stripped paint; “Hnn, indeed. So much for the _vaunted_ endurance of a _Prime’s Consort_.”

Skywarp’s thumb caressed his glossa, and Orion offlined his optics as he sucked weakly. “Pity, I drank the only energon I brought with me while we were waiting. Although… I _have_ heard that transfluid is an acceptable substitute- and beggars can’t be choosers, right?”

Only the barest pressure was required to get Orion’s mouth open, and Skywarp’s rigid spike slipped in easily. “And if I see you waste even a drop _,_ Pax, it’ll be the last you get. I’m doing this for _your_ benefit, not mine.” 

Starscream’s husky laugh tickled the sensors on his audial, before the seeker craned his neck forward to give Skywarp’s thrusting spike a teasing lick, right against the base. “Hnh, _fragger-_ stop trying to steal Pax’s fuel!” He pushed two fingers from his free hand into Starscream’s mouth, “Suck on this instead! Better yet, why don’t you show TC what else we can do with our new toy?”

“I don’t need _assistance_ ,” Thundercracker’s tone bespoke of his namesake, a dangerous, distant rumble; “just because I’m not getting revved from this like you two fraggers-” 

“ _Thundercracker._ ” 

The pacing seeker stopped in his tracks and turned to face his Trine leader, who fixed him with a severe glare. “Are you _certain_ you want to snub the very first reward you have earned from our new _Lord Prime_?”

Thundercracker’s wings hitched with alarm, and he responded with a dark scowl, “Well I can hardly use him when _you’re_ in the way, Commander.” 

“Then stop complaining and make yourself useful!” Skywarp purred as he thrust his spike back down Orion’s intake. “My valve could use some attention, sweetspark.” He flickered one optic in Thundercracker’s direction, widening his stance expectantly. 

Orion’s face was pressed up close against the seeker’s pelvic armor, but he knew that Thundercracker had acquiesced when he felt warm air venting over his chin and neck, before Skywarp gave a low moan and rocked his hips to and fro between their mouths. 

Starscream’s hands slid down Orion’s body, relying on Skywarp’s grip to keep their plaything upright. One hand slid between his thighs and pressed fingers back into his raw valve, the other plucking at sensitive components exposed by gaps in his armor. “Enjoying yourself? Not many ground-mecha can boast about satisfying an _entire_ Vosian trine at once; you should feel proud.”

The vibrations from Thundercracker’s growl of irritation at that taunt grounded straight down Orion’s intake and he stiffened involuntarily, startled by how powerful they were- and how _good_ they felt. Skywarp clearly agreed, because his engine roared and he overloaded convulsively, gripping Orion’s shoulders hard enough to dent. “ _Primus!_ ” 

Starscream chuckled, “You stamina continues to be as _impressive_ as ever, Skywarp.”

“Frag off, that was entirely your fault for getting TC riled!”

“Perhaps he’s just eager for his turn; isn’t that right, Thundercracker?” 

Thundercracker had backed away from Skywarp a little ways, still on his knees. He wore a distantly disgruntled expression as he wiped trails of lubricant from his plating. “You can both get fragged.”

“Aww, don’t be like that, winglet!” Skywarp pushed Orion away so that he could draw Thundercracker in close, whispering against his partner’s lips before kissing him messily. 

A sudden shift in his balance distracted Orion from the embracing pair and back onto Starscream, who lay him against the berth once more. “Don’t forget to thank Skywarp for his consideration,” he reminded Orion with patient condescension, “ there are many more Decepticons who would have let you run dry without a second thought.” The fingers still buried knuckle-deep in his valve curled, and Orion’s hips lurched upwards as his slowing processor fought through his cloying exhaustion to answer.

“Yes, master!”

“Are you feeling neglected now that you’re not the center of their attention?”

How was he supposed to answer? Orion’s hips lurched again as Starscream’s wandering digits found an overstimulated cluster of nodes, working their charge higher with cruel, deliberate movements. “I- I’m here to serve as a reward, master?” He ventured, struggling not to writhe as the charge in his valve became painful. Was the seeker expecting more? “Your satisfaction is- _nnh! It’s my priority!_ ”

The low _growl_ Starscream’s engine made would have been intimidating in other circumstances, but here and now it was a relief, because it meant his master was pleased. The fingers in his valve shifted a less overstimulated cluster, and Orion couldn’t smother his desperate groan. 

“You are _insatiable,_ Pax.” Starscream purred, sliding his fingers out of Orion’s valve so that he could wrap them around a thigh instead, dragging it wider. “Perhaps if you advertised your availability more clearly?” The seeker lowered his voice as his fingers crept back up to the apex of Orion’s legs. “Make some _noise_ , Pax.”

The shock of sensation as Starscream’s dente clamped on his audial, the same moment his knuckles _ground_ against Orion’s external anterior node had him shrieking through an overload, his hips lifting helplessly off the berth once more.

The energy drain involved had knocked several of his weakened systems offline, and Orion was left in darkness and silence as they sluggishly rebooted. 

“-make him scream like that again? He looks half-offline as it is…”

“I’m sure he’ll online if you frag him hard enough.”

“ _Please-_ ” Orion’s vocalizer was weak and thick with static, cutting out so that the rest of his plea remained unsaid. The one word he _had_ managed to articulate _was_ heard, however- and misunderstood.

“Primus, you can’t get enough seeker-spike, can you? No need to beg, Pax, there’s plenty more for our _thirsty_ little socket.” Skywarp pushed back between his legs, his spike lining up then pushing deep into Orion’s oversensitized valve with lazy ease. 

Orion flinched away from the seeker with a low groan, but the tight grip on his injured hips was more than enough to keep him in place. A static buzz faded out the conversation above him, and he was further disoriented when his cuffed hands were extended above his head so that Thundercracker could straddle his face.

“-shut up long enough to do this for me, anyway.” 

Dim red biolights wreathed a needy valve directly above his mouth, an invitation to lick. A hard thrust into his valve, provoking a dull ache along with sharp pleasure. Orion’s hands shifted to stroke the seeker’s spike, hesitantly guiding his hips lower so that he could press his glossa deeper into the valve. 

More thrusting in his valve, and Orion found himself unconsciously quickening his glossa to match the rhythm. The seeker above him seemed to approve, as his hips rocked lower to meet the thrusts, grinding _hard_ against Orion’s face. The grey noise in his audials kept creeping louder, or was that just the effect of thighs clamping hard around his helm?

“ _Frag, loo----ing his face li-----in you, now!_ ”

A startled rev came from above as Thundercracker was lifted away before being dragged down the length of Orion’s body, Skywarp holding him tight around the waist as he sank his dente deep into a neck cable. Orion watched with dim optics and a slack mouth as Skywarp whispered exaltations into his partner’s audial before he lined their hips up and-

Orion neither felt nor heard the collective cries they made, as the _roaring_ of Thundercracker’s engine had surged through his valve, translating into vibration that seared every node in his frame withraw _sensation_. His optics finally flickered offline completely as his processor dumped nonessential applications, struggling to limit the influx of data before he-

“Still functioning down there, consort?”

_-overloaded._

\--


End file.
